


Intuition

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 18:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: It isn't like Nadia to run to someone's door in the middle of the night, or at least, it didn't use to be.





	Intuition

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for thearcanaweek's Nadia Week prompt "intuition" and is set in a vague, happy post-canon.

The trees seem to reach for Nadia, their branches swiping barbed claws. Birds call for her, never quite her most hated voice yet shrill enough to recall that past, or perhaps a dark future. “You shall not have me,” she hisses without regard for if it is more foolish to respond alone in the dark than to bow to shadows.

She pulls her robe around her like armor. Only stars light her path, and the foliage obscures even those, but she knows this route and trusts the pull at her heart to guide her. There is no use questioning the wisdom of it. She senses—she _knows_ Portia is awake, and she will welcome Nadia inside.

The smell of wisteria cuts through her mind’s clouds. She doesn’t stop to collect herself until she’s rapped on the cottage door. No doubt she still looks dishevelled when the curtains part, and half a second later Portia flings the door open. She is out of her servant uniform, her hair down over her pajamas, but her lanterns are lit.

“My apologies for calling so late,” Nadia says. “May I come in?”

As soon as she’s ushered Nadia inside, Portia closes the door and peeks out the window. “Is somebody after you, Milady?” she asks, already reaching for her shovel.

“No, nothing so urgent.” Embarrassment draws Nadia’s gaze to the floor in time to spot Pepi rub against her ankles. She drops into a chair and bends to pet the cat’s head, which leans obligingly. “I come to you as a friend, in need of...” She clears her throat.

“Yes?

_Help_. It is difficult to say without a specific request. The nightmares had eased of late, just enough for this vivid batch to catch her off guard. They’re only dreams, unless they aren’t. Nadia presses her lips together and touches the center of her forehead.

“Headaches, Nadia?”

The drop of her title makes Nadia smile. A countess does not arrive barefoot at a maid’s home in the middle of the night, but this is always the place where Nadia’s heart can settle.  
  
“No, thankfully those have not resurfaced. It is the nightmares.”  
  
“Prophecies again? Should I summon Asra?”

“I’m unsure, but no, not tonight.” In the morning, she will make herself seek his advice, even though she’d rather bury this with the moon. “I hope they are not prophetic. Everything—and everyone—in them belongs in the past.”

Her fingers clutch at her robe. Pepi headbutts her leg until she loosens her grip to welcome the cat into her lap. As the sight of Portia tucking loose hair away from her eyes is almost too enjoyable, Nadia looks instead at the table, where ink and paper sit. “Have I interrupted something?”

“Oh, no.” The way Portia breathes the syllables smacks of guilt. She hurries to sit beside Nadia and shuffle the papers. “I was, um, writing letters. A letter, really. To Nazali—Doctor Satrinava.” Biting her lip, she studies Nadia’s face. Nadia makes sure to nod.

“I see. Send them my regards.” That is all she can manage with her heart rate only now slowing. As with most things she does, it seems to be enough for Portia.

“I will. Um, can I get you anything?”  
  
“Only your company, and perhaps a place to stay, if it is no trouble.”  
  
“No, not at all!”

Portia resumes her letter writing as she chats with as much skill at multitasking as her job demands. Perhaps it is intuition, or perhaps it is Portia’s smile that tells Nadia she can lay a hand on the table and trust Portia to take it.


End file.
